


oceans (between you and i)

by shiraishin, woojinisms



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Summer, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, seungwoo is a goat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-10-04 02:51:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20463818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiraishin/pseuds/shiraishin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/woojinisms/pseuds/woojinisms
Summary: Seungwoo is a lot of firsts for Seungyoun: his first friend, first time diving into the deep blue, and his first goodbye (but also hellos, over and over again for a long time to come).What he doesn’t know is that no amount of summers spent in Busan, or scrapes and bruises on his knees, could prepare him for his first (and hopefully last) love.





	1. like how the evening begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh im sorry?

Seungyoun is six when he takes the train for the first time: it’s unbelievably boring, about three hours from Yongsan station to Busan station. He’s restless, antsy from sitting still for so long, and itching to see the ocean. 

“Mom!” he calls, almost jumping out of his seat as soon as the intercom says ‘Arriving at Busan Station’. “Mom! We’re here!” 

“Seungyoun-ah, sit down. The train hasn’t stopped yet,” she urges, waving at him to sit back down. 

Seungyoun pouts, not quite sure why he needs to sit while the train moves, not quite sure why he can’t run outside to feel the sky on his skin. The edge of July is bleeding into the beginning of August, and Seungyoun’s parents had decided to pool their vacation days to visit family in Busan during the peak of summer.

They deboard the train quickly, Seungyoun’s mother reminding him not to forget his backpack on the way down.

“We’re staying with your grandpa, Seungyoun,” his father explains on the car ride into the city, but Seungyoun barely hears him, too caught up in the colours of Busan. He’s pressed up so close to the window he’s nearly phasing through it, eyes wide with wonder at the bright houses and the blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds. 

Seungyoun turns away from the window to face his mother. “Is there anyone else there?” he asks, bouncing lightly in his seat. “Anyone cool? I hope there’s someone cool!”

She laughs, endeared at her son’s excitement. “There’s a family that lives next door. I’m sure there’s someone you can be friends with in the area.” 

(Two blocks down, a young boy calls out from the living room. 

“Mom! Do you think he’s gonna like soccer?”) 

* * *

“I’m Cho Seungyoun! I’m six years old and I like green! And palm trees! Also, I want to go to Brazil one day.” He pauses, deep in thought. “And I like soccer!”

“I’m your hyung, then,” the other boy says, holding out his soccer ball. His _ satoori _ is heavy, rolling off his tongue as he speaks. “I’m Han Seungwoo. I’m eight, I have two sisters, and soccer is my favourite." 

“I’ve never been to Brazil,” he says, as he tosses the ball to Seungyoun, “but I hope there are palm trees there.”

“There are, I think… I hope there are. I want to live somewhere with palm trees. And cool fish!”

“Busan has cool fish too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll show you. But only if you can beat me first!” 

Seungwoo snatches the ball back from Seungyoun, dribbling it forward through the field. Seungyoun’s laughing, chasing after him now, wind blowing through his hair and grass tickling the sides of his shoes. 

Seungyoun really wants to see the cool fish, but he also really likes soccer, and he likes this hyung who stands taller than him, who melts into the surrounding sky like he belongs here. His heart isn’t quite sure why it feels warm at the promise of golden days ahead, and the whole season of summer that lies in wait for Seungyoun to claim.

What he does know, however, is that the warm feeling in his heart is one he likes, and the gold ahead of him manifests in the silver clouds in the sky and white sand beaches of Busan. 

* * *

“Hyung, I’m scared. What if something eats me?”

“Nothing’s going to bite you. It’s just the water.” 

Seungwoo’s hand looks inviting from his spot in the ocean, toes buried in the dark sand, arm outstretched, waiting for Seungyoun to take hold. Seungyoun shakes his head, stepping back. 

“There might be monsters in there. I don’t want to go.” His hands are drawn in, crossed over his chest. 

It’s hot outside, hot enough to melt popsicles, and Seungyoun’s mother suggested that he go out with Seungwoo to play while she and Seungwoo’s mother go to the market. But the salty ocean air makes it cooler, and the waves are refreshing, beckoning them to go swimming. 

But Seungyoun is six years old now, and Seungwoo is almost two whole years older than him, so he decides to trust the older boy: he steps forward carefully, digs his feet into the wet sand, and grasps Seungwoo’s hand. 

Like always, Seungwoo is right: nothing eats him, and there are no monsters waiting to grab him by the ankle and drag him into the deep unknown. Instead, there’s only the hot sun, beaming down on two kids splashing in the white foam of the water’s blue spread out in front of them. 

“Hey! There’s no fish here!” Seungyoun is standing still in the water, one hand still clasped in Seungwoo’s, the other sifting through clear water for something alive.

“Of course not. You’re barely in the water. The fish are out _ there _,” Seungwoo responds, tilting his head toward the darker blue in ahead of them. 

“Why don’t they come here?” Seungyoun asks, tilting his head. 

“Because _ you’re _ here,” Seungwoo laughs; he sticks his tongue out and splashes water at Seungyoun. It’s cold, he notes, and salty, but he laughs with Seungwoo, splashing him back with both hands. 

Summer in Busan, to the two boys, means world domination. They have the whole sea bowing at their feet, churning with waves that come alive under the sun, and they are unstoppable. 

* * *

Dinner that night is a steaming pot of _ haemul jeongol _ and a stack of four _ haemul pajeon _, shrimp, squid and crab fresh from the outdoor market nearby, scallions and leeks fresh from Seungwoo’s family’s backyard. Seungwoo had gone home that afternoon, saying that he needed to do some summer homework, but not without promising that they’d see each other tomorrow. 

“Did you have fun today, Seungyoun?” his mom asks, as his dad sets the steaming stew on the table. 

“Mhm!” he nods eagerly in response. “Seungwoo-hyung is cool! I want to be like him when I grow up,” he declares, as he pushes himself up so he can peer into the bubbling pot of seafood. 

Seungyoun’s mom laughs as she asks, “How are you going to do that, Younie?” 

“Um…” Seungyoun sits back down, both hands on the table. “I’ll get good at soccer!” 

“You know, you don’t have to be like Seungwoo-gun to be cool, Seungyoun-ah.” His dad ruffles his hair, taking a seat next to him.

“I know that!” Seungyoun scoffs, crossing his arms, the fact that his cool hyung isn’t always cool plain and obvious to him. “He knows too much about fish. And he hates bugs, even though bugs are cool too. Also, sometimes he sounds like a goat.” It’s a real problem now, Seungyoun reminded of the strange noises Seungwoo sometimes makes when they play soccer together. It’s distracting, and Seungyoun definitely thinks he should see a doctor. Just in case. 

“Well, there's nothing wrong with sounding like a goat. Maybe he can teach you about fish, and you can teach him that bugs are cool,” Seungyoun’s mother suggests as she sets a piece of pancake on top of Seungyoun’s rice. He picks it up with his chopsticks, and chews thoughtfully. 

“Well, it doesn’t really matter, because I’ll still be his friend.” He makes a face. “Even if he sounds like a goat. And it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t like bugs, because I can like them for him!” 

Seungyoun’s mother smiles, and places a kiss on his head. “Well, I’m glad you made a friend.”

They finish the rest of dinner with Seungyoun telling them about how he went to the ocean for the first time, and that the water was salty enough to cook _ kimchi jiggae _ with.

His mother lets him make _ dalgona _ with her after dinner, and Seungyoun insists on saving two pieces for tomorrow, so he can share with Seungwoo. 

And that night, Seungyoun goes to sleep in a stranger of a bed, unknown house in an unfamiliar port city, full of seafood and hopes for more treats and soccer tomorrow.

* * *

“Let’s catch bugs!”

“Ew, Seungyoun.” Seungwoo grimaces. “Bugs are gross.”

“Hyung,” Seungyoun whines, pouting. “Bugs are not gross. What if the bugs said you were gross?” 

Seungwoo crosses his arms. “It doesn’t matter, Younie, because I don’t like them anyway.”

It’s dark outside, nighttime painting the sky a rich blue, and the two boys are bickering outside their tent. Seungyoun had wanted to see the stars in his first week here, and Seungwoo’s mother kindly suggested that they could sleep outside on the side porch. She had provided snacks in the form of peeled _ yuja _ and Hallabong oranges, which the boys quickly finished.

Luckily, it’s warm, light breeze brushing through their hair and tickling the plants climbing up the outside wall. They had rolled out _ futons _ after dinner, Seungyoun fussing over the fact that “They’re not flat, hyung! They need to be flat!”

“You know,” Seungwoo says, stretching himself over his blankets, “Fireflies are pretty. I like those kinds of bugs.” 

Seungyoun grins, turning to face the other boy. “See! Not all bugs are gross.” He’s buzzing on the inside, fizzling with electricity at the thought that his hyung might grow to like the same things as him. 

Seungwoo furrows his eyebrows, shifting in his spot to rest on his side. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. They look like stars, sometimes.”

“Stars are pretty too.” Seungyoun reaches forward to smooth Seungwoo’s forehead out with his thumb. “Don’t do that! My mom says you’ll get wrinkles.” 

Seungwoo makes an angrier face in response, hands up like claws. “I’m a wrinkly monster!” he shouts as he tackles Seungyoun into his futon. 

“Hyung! Get off of me! You look like an old man!”

(They never end up looking at the stars, captivated instead by the lightning bugs that come out when the sun goes down. They glow like a million suns, flickering around the two boys, and they fall asleep to the faint light of the moon and the crashing of waves in the distance.)

* * *

The month of August melts away like ice cream, slow and sticky on their fingers, and before either of them know it, Seungyoun’s two weeks in Busan fade into one week; fades into one day. 

It’s cooler when Seungyoun leaves, the sun taking a break behind clouds as he stands outside the train station, packed up and ready to leave. 

“You have to come back, okay?” 

Their pinkies are linked, unspoken promises of more summers, more ice creams, more salt, and more sky ahead of them. 

Seungyoun smiles wide, not yet understanding of what it means to be away from his friend. “I will! We can play together again when I come back! You have to wait for me.” 

Seungwoo nods in affirmation. “You have to get better at soccer too. We’ll play next year, and I’ll get better too, so don’t fall behind!” 

“I promise! Bye, hyung!” 

“Come on, Youn-ah,” his mother says. “We’ll come back next year, Seungwoo-gun,” she reassures him. “Thank you for taking care of our Seungyoun.”

“Thanks for coming, auntie!” Seungwoo bows at a near ninety degree angle, and Seungyoun laughs at him from beside his mom, before they turn to leave. 

Summer, to a six year old Seungyoun, means train rides to something new, smiles and seafood, and a new friend who he calls special. Summer means blue ocean, glittering gold under the yellow sun, and these are the things that keep the fire going as Seungyoun returns to the soupy heat of Seoul. 

But summer’s blue burns out before he knows it, into fall, crisp and golden, before the grey winter rears its head. 

And winter in Seoul is lonely, nothing to keep Seungyoun company at home except for his mom and his piano. He plays a lot, because his mom says he’s not allowed to kick the soccer ball around in their apartment, learning new songs and scales. 

Winter, to six year old Seungyoun, means English _ hakwon _ and piano lessons, and making crisp footprints in the snow. It means no soccer, which is okay because he likes music too, and it means excitement for the warm skies waiting for him in the summer. 

* * *

He’s nine when Seungwoo finally teaches him how to swim. The shallow water is warm from the sun, dried salt clinging to his face. 

“Hyung! I’m gonna drown!” 

“Shut up, Seungyoun. You’re not gonna drown.” 

Seungyoun stops flailing his limbs in the water before looking at Seungwoo. “Hyung, this is serious!” he whines. “What if I _ do _ drown?”

Seungwoo looks at him from his spot in the water, clear blue shimmering around him. He’s leaning back on the ocean, arms spread out to keep him afloat, and face turned up toward the sky, considering his course of action should Seungyoun ever begin to drown.

Seungyoun waits for an answer, idly pushing water forward in waves toward the other boy. Sweat trickles down the back of his neck as Seungwoo tilts his head forward to look at Seungyoun. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to dive in and save you.” 

“Okay,” he says, satisfied with his answer, unfailing faith in Seungwoo’s ability to keep him from drowning. “But hyung,” Seungyoun grins, moving closer to him, “if I don’t like swimming, that means we have to play more soccer together.”

Seungwoo snorts. “Sure.”

“Hey! Don’t splash me! It’s cold!”

* * *

The salt on Seungyoun’s back dries in the heat of the sun, the heat coming off of Seungwoo’s skin next to him warmer than the summer evening. Seungyoun’s twelfth summer finds them perched on the edge of a mountain of large rocks, by the waterfront where all the fishing boats are docked. The air is clear, buzzing with mayflies flitting over the wooden docks. 

They sit in near silence, feet hanging over the sea, toes barely brushing the water, and wait with fishing rods in hopes that something will bite. 

“Hyung,” Seungyoun says, turning to face Seungwoo. “Hyung… we’re best friends right?” he asks, filled with the sudden need to know, to confirm. 

“Yeah.” Seungwoo sets his fishing rod down. “You’re my best friend, Seungyounie.” 

“When the winter comes… You don’t forget about me, right?”

Seungwoo snorts at the ridiculousness of his question. “Of course! Every year I forget about the funnest person that I know when he leaves for Seoul. I don’t get excited in the spring at all, and I definitely don’t wait for him to come back.” He turns to face Seungyoun, eyebrows furrowed, searching Seungyoun’s face for a reason behind the sudden interrogation. 

Seungyoun turns his gaze back toward the water, swinging his feet over the surface of the ocean. It’s quiet, except for the buzz of flies and the soft crashing of waves against the shoreline. 

“I’ve known you since you were six, Seungyoun-ah.” Seungwoo rests his fishing rod on the rock next to him as he draws his legs in and wraps his arms around his knees. _ I know you’re thinking too much _ hangs in the air between them, but the words float away like smoke in the sky. 

“It’s,” Seungyoun starts, drawing in a deep breath. “It’s just that… We only see each other in the summer. For a month. Don’t you have other friends at school? Other best friends? Won’t people make fun of you if your best friend is younger than you?” Seungyoun lowers his head, voice becoming quiet. “They won’t think you’re cool.”

“Why is that important? It’s okay if we’re only together for a month. That doesn’t change that you’re still my best friend.” Seungwoo looks up at the sky, cheek resting on his knee. “And who cares if you’re younger than me? You’re still cool. The people who think you’re not cool aren’t cool.”

“But–”

Seungwoo doesn’t let him finish; instead he places his hands on Seungyoun’s shoulders and turns him toward himself. “And even if I have other friends, too, I won’t forget about you.”

“…Okay.” 

“Good.” Seungwoo hums, releasing Seungyoun’s shoulders to grab his hand and rest his head on his shoulder. “I like fish and I like sharks and I like Seungyoun,” he sings to the ocean and his solo audience of “Seungyoun-only”.

Seungyoun shoves Seungwoo off his shoulder, laughing. “Shut up, hyung.”

“Seungyoun-ah! Why won’t you love me,” Seungwoo whines, grabbing at Seungyoun, and Seungyoun feels his breath come back, weight lifted off his chest. 

They stay outside until the afternoon bleeds into sunset, before Seungwoo pulls Seungyoun onto his feet so they can buy convenience store ice cream on the way home. They leave the ocean behind them, no fish to show from their labour, and race down the beaten path leading away from the pier. 

* * *

He soon finds that a month spent together is much too short, much too fleeting for his taste.

So at sixteen, Seungyoun packs his guitar with him. It’s new, his old Yamaha turned in for a Crafter model. 

Electricity fizzes through his bones, extinguishing itself where skin meets wood. He’s better now, has something to show for his practice, and he’s eager to show it. 

He’s better now, and wants to show Seungwoo something new that’s not soccer, something else that he hopes he might like. 

But Seungyoun is quick to discover that this summer, Han Seungwoo is not in Busan. Instead, he’s spending it in Hadong for summer camp. It’s not far, but it feels like he’s years away, because summers are usually spent in Busan, with Seungwoo, and the ocean.

(Seungyoun doesn’t mind, not really at least, because he missed the salt spray and the seafood as well, and spends the month refining his guitar playing. He learns how to fingerstyle Someone Like You, and plays it on the rocks by the water, and goes fishing with his grandfather.)

It’s not the same that year, water not as clear, and the taste of salt on his tongue not as pleasant. But he swallows it down anyway, and practices guitar until his fingertips are rough from calluses. 

And just like how the evening begins, the blazing summer behind him fades into winter, the same way it does every year, and Seungyoun trades in his t-shirts for long padding and scarves. 

He makes friends at school, of course, but Jinhyuk and Wooseok are closer to each other than he feels they’ll ever be to him. It’s okay; he doesn’t mind, and the beginning of high school is too filled with new things to do to get caught up in it anyway. 

Seungyoun joins a dance club, and learns to play the electric guitar. He’s not sure if he’s good yet, but he likes it enough that he’s willing to stick around and find out. 

The piano is comfortable to him; home turf, so he plays “I’m in Love” by Ra.D on the upright in the living room of his home, over and over again until he can see the keyboard’s black and white from behind closed eyelids, and dreams about a bluer sky outside of Seoul. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [twt](https://twitter.com/HSW_mp3)!


	2. last summer whisper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiii sorry for taking so long to update :( hope you still enjoy this chapter though! <3

To a seventeen year old Seungyoun, life is nothing but an endless sea: the waves toss him around, water filling his lungs as he tries not to drown under the weight of doubts and insecurities. It’s being anxious about the future and losing sleep to study for exams that seem pointless anyway; it’s longing to do things he enjoys instead of being forced to spend hours in hakwon, the letters on the pages of his textbooks blurring until he’s too tired to keep his eyes open.

It’s not surprising that every time the tide becomes high and he finds himself unable to swim against the current, all he can do is close his eyes and imagine Seungwoo waiting for him at the shore.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The summer before his second year of high school finds him arriving in Busan without the company of his parents for the first time in his life. His grandmother welcomes him with a warm embrace and a table covered in plates of his favorite food; _ doenjang jjigae_, _ panjeon_, smaller plates of _ banchan _ scattered around. Just the smell is enough to make him think of his childhood, of days spent in Busan with sea breeze in his hair and his grandfather’s voice asking him to come home in time for dinner.

“Slow down, Seungyoun-ah,” his grandmother says, pointing at him with her chopsticks. “You know it’s not healthy to eat fast.”

He simply nods, trying to calm himself down, barely managing to contain his excitement as he imagines his meeting with Seungwoo. As much as he’s missed his family, he saw them every time they came to Seoul for holidays and birthdays; Seungwoo, however, is like something that’s always absent, impossible to grasp. 

They haven’t seen each other in two years, so Seungyoun’s head is buzzing with questions; he wonders whether Seungwoo still remembers him like he promised, whether he still plays soccer in his free time, what he looks like now. He’s soon to be a university student, so in Seungyoun’s eyes he’s basically an adult, the gap between them wider than ever. Will he still want to hang out? Has he changed much?

His grandmother notices, always attentive to the smallest details. “Seungwoo-gun asked about you recently; you might want to pay the Hans a visit soon,” she says with a glint of smile while reaching out for a piece of panjeon.

“Can I go today?”

She lets out a laugh, a sound that reminds him of going to the market together and shopping for fresh fish and vegetables. He’d always point his finger at things he didn’t know the name of and she answered every question with patience in her voice, her tone sweet like honey.

“Dinner first,” she says, nodding. “Then you can go.”

Seungyoun doesn’t remember the last time he ate dinner this fast.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Seungwoo does remember him, just like he promised all those years ago.

The atmosphere is laced with awkwardness at first, but Seungyoun has prepared himself for stolen glances and the lack of words between them. Two years is a long time, after all; long enough for two people to grow apart, especially when you’re two teenagers living more than three hundred kilometres away from each other. He feels a wave of anxiety wash over him involuntarily as he looks at nineteen year old Seungwoo, someone he doesn’t really recognize anymore.

His features are way sharper now, cheekbones and jawline more refined. The foolish smile Seungyoun had often found himself longing to see has blended into something more gentle, more controlled. The only thing that hasn’t changed is Seungwoo’s sharp, pointy nose, Seungyoun notices; even the shade of his hair seems a little lighter than before.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Seungwoo asks, taking a seat on the floor of his room, a can of peach flavored soda in his hand.

(Seungyoun vaguely thinks back to that one time he spilled the same exact drink all over himself and spent the whole day walking around the neighborhood with a huge stain on his shirt. He’s scared of moments like those being only a memory now.)

“Have you been well, hyung?”

Seungwoo gives him a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess you could say so. I was the captain of my school soccer team,” he says, looking over to the shelf above his bed where shiny trophies and medals are. Seungyoun vaguely notes that winning this many times must have meant spending a lot of hours training on the field. “It was a good time, so I didn’t really focus on my studies. Too busy with practice.”

“I didn’t study much, either,” Seungyoun replies quickly, not giving silence the chance to creep in. “I mean, I get good grades, good enough to make my parents proud, but I spend most of my free time playing the guitar.”

Seungwoo looks down at his hands, visibly nervous, and takes a sip of his drink.

“Oh, right,” Seungyoun says. “You’re a university student now, right? Have you chosen your major yet, hyung?”

It feels weird, talking to him like this. Seungyoun remembers Seungwoo; the one who taught him how to swim, someone who refused to catch bugs with him, the boy with grains of sand in his hair. The man sitting in front of him, cross-legged and seemingly deep in thought, is someone new. Someone he doesn’t really know how to approach, and Seungyoun can’t help but wonder what buttons he should push to break down his walls, make him laugh the way he used to.

In truth, Seungyoun still considers himself a child; he doesn’t have to worry about responsibilities other than homework and doing well at school. No one expects him to, since his parents are the type to let their child discover the different possibilities life has to offer. Seungwoo, in comparison, seems mature and collected, something Seungyoun has never expected him to be.

The illusion, however, is shattered when Seungwoo says, “I’m majoring in marine biology. Not that surprising, right?” and smiles, eyes crinkling into crescents, the expression on his face speaking of genuine excitement. That’s how Seungyoun knows that it’s still the same Seungwoo, except a little older, carrying more experiences than the one Seungyoun used to know. He replies with a smile and scoots closer, feeling relieved and, in a way, happy to have him back.

They spend the rest of the night talking about the sea and plans for the future; Seungyoun realizes that the spark in Seungwoo’s eyes makes him want to drown in them, so he listens attentively, smiling at the way Seungwoo’s calm demeanor completely disappears once the topic is something he’s interested in. It’s familiar and brings a sense of comfort, so when it’s time to go home (_ “Your grandparents will be worried, Younie” _), he dreads leaving Seungwoo’s cozy room more than anything.

“We can meet tomorrow,” Seungwoo says, rubbing at the corner of his eye. “And the day after tomorrow. We have the whole summer to ourselves, remember?”

“Pinky promise?”

Seungwoo ruffles Seungyoun’s hair with a soft smile on his face. “Pinky promise.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Two years feel like an eternity to a seventeen year old Seungyoun, but if he had to make a list of things he’s sure of even after so much time, it would look like this:

  1. Han Seungwoo doesn’t lie: it’s the one rule he refuses to break.
  2. Han Seungwoo is cool, like, very cool. Ridiculously cool.
  3. Han Seungwoo is always right (damn him).

Seungyoun would probably find the last one annoying, except this time, it works in his favor, because Han Seungwoo is right: they do have the entire summer to themselves, and Seungyoun struggles to recall the last time something made him this happy (maybe except for that one time his parents let him go to his favorite band’s concert, but this is close behind).

It’s different from all those summers they’d spend together before; there’s no persuading their parents to take them to the city, because they can go by themselves (_ “Hyung, you have a driver’s license? A real one?” _). There’s no playing around in the sea either, since Seungwoo doesn’t seem interested and Seungyoun, as much as he’d love to feel the cold water on his skin, doesn’t want to embarrass himself.

Instead, there are hours spent wandering around downtown Busan, with Seungwoo showing him around places he deems as fun enough; places like Seomyeon, the crowdedness of it reminding Seungyoun of Seoul a little too much, and Gamcheon which he falls in love with, mostly thanks to tens of cats hanging around there, waiting to be pet. (_ “Aren’t you allergic to cats?” “I am, but look, hyung. She’s just asking for belly scratches.” _)

This time, there’s less salty water drying on the skin and more cold drinks from chic Busan cafes, exploring the city he doesn’t know that well but feels at home in. As much as Seungyoun misses laying in the sun with Seungwoo next to him, he enjoys this too, because Seungwoo is still by his side, always coming up with new ideas and places they could go to, and Seungyoun wouldn’t change it for the world.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


One day, Seungwoo takes him to visit the high school he recently graduated from; it’s one of those hot but not scorching summer days, the rays of sun warm on their skin. Originally they were supposed to spend it watching reruns of dramas and eating watermelon they bought at the market the day before, but Seungyoun’s grandmother ushered them out, saying that she needs to have the house for herself to do her weekly cleaning.

The school, Seungwoo says, is located on the outskirts of the city, so they have to take the orange line to get there, and the whole ride takes more than half an hour. Seungyoun doesn’t mind because, as it turns out, the subway rides above the ground half of the time, which gives him the opportunity to see high blocks of flats and more residential areas. Seungwoo laughs at him, already used to the view, but he joins him in staring at the passing buildings with interest.

“It’s weird,” Seungyoun says once they get off and begin walking towards the exit. “Busan is a huge city, but it’s so much different from Seoul.”

“How?” 

“Have you ever been to Seoul, hyung?” he asks, raising his head to look at Seungwoo and barely avoiding bumping into someone; the lady just waves her hand when he bows to her in apology. Seungwoo snorts and shakes his head saying that no, he hasn’t ever been there because there wasn’t the need for him to go.

“Well, it’s hard to explain, but sometimes I feel like everyone in Seoul only cares about their paychecks. People there are really stiff, you know? Everyone at my school has a stick up their ass. Well, maybe except for Jinhyuk and Wooseok, but… What are you laughing at?”

He glances to his left to find Seungwoo covering his mouth with his hand to suppress a laugh.

“A stick up their ass,” he repeats in between giggles. “I’d never have expected to hear you say that.”

Seungyoun crosses his arms, staring at him with disbelief. “You think I’m still a kid.”

“No,” Seungwoo replies quickly, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s just weird. You’re all grown up now, huh? We both are. It still feels kind of surreal.”

“Just so you know, I have plenty of blackmail material on you, hyung,” Seungyoun says, half-serious. “Like that one time you almost pissed your pants from laughing and ran home from the beach? I bet all your friends would love to hear that.”

Seungwoo’s eyes widen before he rushes to cling to Seungyoun’s arm, pouting. “Please don’t. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“I won’t, hyung,” Seungyoun says, raising his hand to pat him on the back but realising that their current position doesn’t allow that. When Seungwoo lets out a sigh of relief, he adds, “But keep your eyes open, okay?”

A fool-like smile finds its’ way to Seungwoo’s face. “To look at my favorite dongsaeng? Always.”

Seungyoun scoffs, ignoring the comment.

  
  
  
  
  


They end up finding a spot under a pine tree in front of Seungwoo’s high school, a small hill overlooking the school grounds. The sky is clear above them and Seungyoun can practically feel the sunburn he’s bound to get, along with a nagging from his grandma (_ “I told you to bring sunscreen, Seungyoun-ah. Didn't I?” _) but in the end, not even the sun can challenge the intensity of Seungwoo’s smile as he tells him stories of his friends, of hours spent in cramped classrooms and school corridors.

“This is where I would spend most of my time,” Seungwoo says, pointing his finger at the soccer field in the distance.

The tone of his voice speaks of fond memories, of warm memories and nostalgia. Seungyoun drinks up all the anecdotes and jokes, imagining what it would be like to have Seungwoo as a school sunbae instead of a summer friend.

Somewhere along the way, the directions in which they were going in life have changed; while Seungwoo stuck to soccer, Seungyoun picked up guitar, dancing, started learning Chinese. It’s hard to satisfy a heart as restless as his. At the same time, Seungwoo is like a constant in his life, always there without any changes. And Seungyoun appreciates it, because in a world where he’s being pulled like a wave, there’s always Seungwoo to come back to, smile as kind as it was when they met for the first time.

“Did you have a girlfriend, hyung?” he asks, out of genuine curiosity about what Seungwoo’s high school years were like. “Maybe a boyfriend? Don’t tell me you’re in a relationship now and you haven’t told me.”

Seungwoo stares at him for a second, puzzled. His gaze lingers for a second too long before he clears his throat and says, “I did have a boyfriend. We played on the team together.”

Despite him being the one to mention the topic, a pang of something - jealousy? drowns out every other thought in Seungyoun’s mind.

“Oh,” he lets out, at a loss for words. It takes him a few seconds to pull himself together. “What was he like?”

Seungwoo grows silent, way too silent for Seungyoun’s liking.

“I mean,” he says after a few seconds of what seems like an eternity to Seungyoun. His voice is shaking a little, a rare occurrence when it comes to Han Seungwoo. “We weren’t officially... together. We just went out a few times. He took me to his friend’s parties twice. We’d kiss in the locker room and then act like nothing happened. It wasn’t really anything. But he was fun to hang out with.”

Seungyoun nods, deep in thought as he plays with a blade of grass, avoiding looking at Seungwoo.

“How about you?” Seungwoo asks in the end, trying to change the topic. His voice is back to normal, but it doesn’t really change anything to Seungyoun.

“No girlfriend,” he mumbles out. “No boyfriend either.”

“You sound sad,” Seungwoo points out. “Why? You’re supposed to spend high school studying, not dating.”

“It’s just…” he stops for a while, raising his head to look at the sky. Every thought that he itches to voice out seems childish. Not fitting. In the end he just sighs, ignoring the lump in his throat. “Nevermind. You’re right. As always. How do you do that, hyung? It’s seriously creepy sometimes.”

“Ancient knowledge,” Seungwoo answers with a smile, lying down on the grass and pulling at the sleeve of Seungyoun’s shirt to make him join.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Sunshine filled days of July blend into hot and humid August, bringing Seungyoun’s birthday along with it. Too occupied to actually care about the passing of time, he’s startled when he wakes up to his grandmother walking into the room with a bowl of seaweed soup and his grandfather following close behind to wish him happy birthday. 

“Remember how tiny he used to be,” his grandmother cries out, words clearly directed at her husband who nods along to her words. “Barely reached my waist. Look at him now! Our Seungyounie is basically an adult.”

“_ Ma. _” Seungyoun whines, sound blocked by the spoon in his mouth.

She just waves her hand at him, urging him to continue eating. “Seungwoo-gun is waiting for you downstairs, so you better eat that up because I’m not letting you go before you’re done.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


He’s enveloped in a hug as soon as he walks into his grandparent’s living room, warm arms wrapping around his shoulders tightly. Seungwoo smells like the sea, like the sand and summer air, and Seungyoun can’t help but nuzzle his head into Seungwoo’s neck, just to enjoy the feeling for a little bit longer. 

“Happy birthday, Younie,” he says when they part, handing Seungyoun a carefully wrapped yellow box with a wide grin plastered on his face.

“You kinda look like an airplane when you smile like that,” Seungyoun snorts, accepting the gift. “Has anyone told you that before, hyung?”

“You’re supposed to say _ thank you _.” 

“Well, thank you,” he answers quickly, sitting down on the sofa to unwrap the box. “But your smile is really cute, so I had to.”

Busy struggling with wrapping paper, Seungyoun doesn’t notice either the slight blush dusting over Seungwoo’s cheeks, or the way he fidgets nervously, waiting for Seungyoun’s reaction.

The gift turns out to be a Minolta film camera, something Seungyoun would recognize everywhere; it’s an old thing, clearly bought in a second hand shop, but it seems well kept and in good condition. He traces the logo with his fingers carefully, as if he was scared of it falling apart in his hands.

“How did you know?” he says finally, raising his head to look at Seungwoo. “I’ve been eyeing it for months.”

Seungwoo just shrugs in response, smiling like he knows something Seungyoun doesn’t. “I’m glad you like it.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


In the evening, Seungwoo takes him to a secluded beach outside the city, hidden away from the world except for a few people either talking a walk or sitting near the shoreline. It’s a rather small one, separated from the road by a row of pine trees and rocks, but the view makes up for its size; Seungyoun lets out a gasp as he watches the sea unfold in front of them, the sky painted pink and purple by the sun setting down the horizon. 

“I discovered it last year,” Seungwoo says, kicking off his sandals to set his feet on the warm sand. Seungyoun quickly follows in his footsteps. “I often come here to gather my thoughts.”

“Your thoughts?” 

“There’s many of them,” Seungwoo offers him a smile, but it looks too empty to be real. Seungyoun wishes he could wipe it off, replace it with one that’s genuine. “But it’s your birthday, Younie. We’re here to celebrate, not talk about me.”

“I don’t mind talking about you, hyung.”

“But I do,” Seungwoo replies quickly, grabbing Seungyoun’s hand. “Let’s go.”

Despite recent heat waves, the water is colder than Seungyoun expected it to be. He flinches when a small wave washes over their feet, moving closer to Seungwoo to steal some heat and stop his body from shivering so much. (An impulsive decision; but when Seungwoo wraps his arm around Seungyoun’s shoulder to keep him close, he decides that he doesn’t regret it at all.)

They spend a while walking on the shoreline, letting the sea splash at their feet until they find a spot secluded enough for them to sit without being paid attention to. 

“Remember how you taught me how to swim?” Seungyoun asks, digging his toes into the sand. “That’s the only time I really enjoyed swimming. My P.E. teacher once took us to a swimming pool, but it was completely different. I hated the feeling of being restricted and not being able to swim however I wanted.”

Seungwoo nods along, listening to Seungyoun’s story as he stares off at the horizon. The sun is already halfway down, and the only sound that echoes across the beach is the crashing of waves.

“But, to be honest,” he continues, turning his head to look at Seungwoo. “I think the real reason why I didn’t enjoy it is that you weren’t there, hyung.”

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.”

There’s a minute of silence that makes Seungyoun regret ever mentioning it out loud, and he tries to focus on the thick summer air and the smell of salt to drown those thoughts out.

“We can go swimming together soon,” Seungwoo says finally, watching his feet sink in the sand instead of glancing at Seungyoun. 

Seungyoun feels his face break into a smile without being able to control it. “We definitely should.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


In the end, it turns out to be an empty promise. Seungyoun tries his best to ignore the feeling of disappointment that makes his heart clench as he gets on the bus back home two weeks later, but his attempts are futile. He blames himself for being too timid to bring it up, blames Seungwoo for having to be reminded, but most of all he blames the world for keeping them apart.

Autumn blends into winter without him realizing and before long, shirts turn into warm sweaters, and fallen leaves are no longer visible under layers of snow.

There’s a dark cloud that follows him around everywhere he goes; even though there’s a year left until his college entrance exams, every second of the day is dedicated to preparing for them in one way or another. His mother sends him a worried glance every time he comes home at 11 PM, kept up by either studying in a library or attending hakwon, but he bears it all, because even when he’s tired beyond words, there’s always a message from Seungwoo, cheering him on.

He doesn’t have much time to play the piano or his guitar, but he makes up for it by bringing his Minolta camera with him everywhere, taking photos of things he finds intriguing or out of the ordinary. 

“It’s the ordinary things that make life beautiful,” Seungwoo tells him over the phone one day, and Seungyoun lets out a chuckle in response.

“What self coaching book did you learn it from, hyung?”

“Oh, shut up.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


At eighteen, Seungyoun spends his summer in Seoul for the first time.

In a few years, the thought will remind him of nights spent crying over his textbooks, the hum of aircon, and his mother bringing him snacks to keep him motivated. 

At eighteen, however, summer in Seoul is about missing the salty taste of water, his grandmother’s smile and longing to have Seungwoo by his side. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The day of his college entrance exams finds him shivering from the cold autumn wind, small puffs coming out of his mouth as exhales the air, willing himself to calm down. 

Despite his attempts, his fingers don’t stop trembling; not even when he’s done with filling out the answer sheet and gives it back to the teacher. His parents treat him to dinner in a fancy, lavish restaurant afterwards but it does nothing to clear out his thoughts either; the evening is spent with him eating in silence and listening to his father rant about politics and recent changes in the tax law.

The knot untangles when he notices his phone light up a notification, the words_ I’m proud of you, Seungyounie _ making his stomach flip.

“What are you smiling about, Seungyoun-ah?” his mother when she notices the change in his expression.

“Oh, it’s just…” he says, hurrying to put his phone in his pocket. “It’s uh, Seungwoo hyung.”

He doesn’t know what to make out of his mother’s knowing smile.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


After graduating high school, Seungyoun does what his mother has feared the most: decides to take a gap year to explore the world. 

“It’s a waste of time,” she says, arms crossed, brows furrowed. Despite how displeased she looks, her eyes are swimming with concern.

Seungyoun rolls his eyes, expecting such a turn of events. “You always told me to follow my heart, mom.”

There’s nothing she could say back without exposing the lack of consistency of her parental decisions, so all she does is letting out a sigh, followed by a quiet “Promise me to take care of yourself at least.”

  
  
  
  
  
  


There are many things they don’t teach you at school.

In Japan, Seungyoun learns how to go on a day without opening his mouth, because being a foreigner in an unknown country doesn’t give you many opportunities to talk; then, he learns how to make friends despite the language barrier, communicating in a mix of broken English and Japanese wrapped up in kind, shy smiles. It’s refreshing, meeting people whose views on life are so different from his and he finds himself enjoying the unexpectedness of it all.

His plans to move from one country to another soon turn into months spent in Tokyo, renting a small studio with barely any furniture. He takes up a job as a Korean tutor, spending his time preparing colorful materials that would be interesting enough for the kids he teaches. 

He learns a lot about himself and the restlessness of his own heart, about the flame that burns in him, the intensity of it too much for him to handle as he lies alone in his bed. Somehow, all his thoughts are like rivers that always find their way to Seungwoo, to all the summers they’ve spent together, to salt drying on his skin. 

It’s a cold night in the middle of May when he realizes it’s time to go home. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


At twenty one, Seungyoun finds Seungwoo on Jeju-do. 

“You grew out your hair,” Seungwoo says as soon as he sees him walking out the arrival hall. “It’s nice. You look… Uh, well. Good.”

Seungyoun would probably laugh, but the way his heart lurches into his throat stops him from letting out any sound. They walk to Seungwoo’s car in silence, both of them too engrossed in their thoughts to speak.

The thing about being friends with someone for most of your life is that even silence doesn’t seem unpleasant. Seungyoun vaguely notices that he enjoys Seungwoo’s quietness as much as he adores his words.

“How’s research going?” he asks, glancing at him from the passenger seat.

“We rescued a seal yesterday,” Seungwoo answers, eyes trained on the road unwinding in front of them. “Other than that, it’s been pretty good so far. It’s different from Busan. I mean, we had practical classes there as well, but here, you just feel how great and powerful the Ocean is. You know what I mean? Makes you respect it even more.”

Seungyoun hums, unsure of what to say. As much as he enjoys listening to Seungwoo talk about things he holds dear to his heart - has been enjoying throughout the years of them talking on the phone, separated by three hundred kilometres and overlapping schedules - he often feels small in moments like these, like he doesn’t belong in this life Seungwoo has created for himself. 

“You’re probably tired from the flight,” Seungwoo says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “But would you like to see the sea before we go to my place?”

The real question is: who is Seungyoun to say no?

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The evening sun finds them sitting on rocks overlooking the sea, with the sea breeze in their hair and hearts heavy as they watch waves crash against the shore.

“I missed you,” Seungwoo says first, resting his head on his knees as he wraps his arms around them. “I really, really missed you.”

The confession makes Seungyoun feel like he’s having his lungs filled with water, drowning under the weight of Seungwoo’s words despite how innocent they seem to be. Maybe it’s an impulse, an instinct to keep himself afloat that makes him hold onto a fleeting thought that forms in his head and say, “Can I kiss you?”

Seungwoo nods in response, already shifting to shuffle closer to him, and Seungyoun loses his grip on reality when he feels the brush of Seungwoo’s lips on his, smooth and sweet like strawberry ice cream on his tongue.

“Wait,” he hears Seungwoo say as he pulls back, his voice nearly drowned out by the sound of waves. “I need to tell you something.”

The conflicted look on his face tells Seungyoun that he should brace himself for what he’s about to say, and he does, drawing in a breath before tilting his head in expectation. 

What he doesn’t expect, however, is Seungwoo staring into his eyes as if he was looking for affirmation, and surely not the words that follow.

“I’m moving to Seoul in a few months.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on [twt](https://twitter.com/joyouns) <3


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